Aliens versus Saiyans
by Dannilicious
Summary: Frieza loses contact with one of his colonies. He orders Elite Saiyans to investigate, but the crew discovers that the horrific plague that destroyed the colony is more than meets the eye.
1. Licarg and the Riplers

**Title:** Aliens versus Saiyans

**Author:** Danni

**Summary:** Freeza loses contact of a colony set up on a desolate planet. He orders a special force of Saiyans to investigate, but the group discovers that the plague that destroyed the colony is more than meets the eye.

**Timeline: **Before Vegeta-sei's destruction.

**Warning:** Violence, adult language, adult content.

**Disclaimer:** Dragonball/Z © Akira Toriyama. The Alien is the creation of H.R. Giger. The Riplers—Licarg, Pep, Maize, Kale, Richyko, Aubergine, and Jicama—are Saiyan derivatives by Danni. Please do not take without author consent.

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**Chapter 1—Licarg and the Riplers**

Six months had passed since the completion of the colony on Freeza #113. Though desolate, cold and windy, the planet seemed very strategic, according to maps of the tyrant's vast empire. No life had been discovered living there with the exception of bizarre, nocturnal creatures. But they proved no initial threat. The chance seemed highly unlikely that anything or anyone would dare cross paths with Freeza's forces.

Then two months of delayed responses had passed. Freeza fumed at the thought that his soldiers would defy him. He had waited one more week before sending a small reconnaissance crew to the planet. They were neither heard from nor seen again.

"This is a fiasco! Absolutely!" whined a tall iguana man, decked in a shining robe, gesticulating wildly. "The Nostromo Colony is facing charges that could lead to it being an _ex-place_. And the gods only know how much it cost to build it, let alone maintain it!"

"Don't be such a whiner," said an auburn-haired Saiyan, reclining in his chair with his feet on the table. "Gods know why Emperor Ice Box's got his briefs in a bunch over some bitty rock. I mean, he's got so many planets! What's wrong with this one's goin' bye-bye boom?"

The iguana man puffed up. "Be serious now, man," he said. "If His Majesty continues to be subject to more silence, he _will_ destroy the entire planet, not just the colony! And that would only contribute to the bad economy we are currently mired in."

"Pah! Just typical of the 'Master' to go over budget during a planet auction," whispered a twenty-something-year-old Saiyan to his only female comrade. She smirked and they both snickered.

"Now," began the iguana man matter-of-factly, "Emperor Freeza has requested that His Majesty King Vegeta gather his best warriors to carry out a second—and _final_—reconnaissance mission."

"Stop being so stuffy, Figaya!" cried the auburn-haired Saiyan. "Spaketh so thateth we con recanciliate thine ev'ry wordeth!"

The quills lining Figaya's spine rose in exasperation. He stared at the elder Saiyan sitting beside him, whose hair was lined grey on the sides, the remnant halo from an unspoken of and traumatic battle. The iguana man gritted his teeth and hissed to him, "Excuse me, Captain Licarg, but if you please..."

The elder Saiyan had been staring wearily off into space and then looked up at the creature. "Hmm?"

"Your crew?" growled Figaya through those pointed teeth.

Licarg's eyes swept slowly around the table, observing his crew, the Riplers, as they snickered and fumbled around with pens and bits of paper. He smiled, but when Figaya glowered down on him with yellow-and-red eyes, he frowned. Then Licarg commanded, "All right, you ruffians, listen to what the Chancellor has to say."

Then he glanced at the auburn-haired Saiyan, Maize, and said, "This goes especially for you, Lance Corporal. I cannot allow you to repeat an event resembling the Planet Ashen Incident two years back. Clear?"

Maize's eyes shot wide with the mention of the passed egregious mistake. He bared his gritted teeth, full of spite, for being reminded of that which, he believed, should have been left in the past.

Figaya cleared his throat.

"Now, as I was saying," he began, "before I was so _rudely_ interrupted—"

"Figaya," said Licarg with a sigh in his throat, "I know why my crew and I are here. By orders of Emperor Freeza, King Vegeta has called us together to fix the problems on the Nostromo Colony, correct?"

Figaya snickered evilly and sardonically. "You're not even halfway right, but I'm glad to see some of you monkeys have brains."

The Riplers, with the exception Licarg, shot deadly glances of spite upon the iguana man. The god Tabega help him if they got their hands around his throat!

"Emperor Freeza has ordered that you be summoned to, not exactly fix the problem, but evaluate it. The colony, as far as location is concerned, is worth its weight in the trillions of Intergalactic Space Dollars: that is, temp. The length for which we have had no response calls for more experienced individuals—in this case, warriors—to investigate. This goes against usual protocol, but we are getting desperate. Furthermore, it could be that when you land, the situation found there might demand instant military action."

"So what you're saying," began the female Saiyan, "is that our Kings view us as _really_ expendable? And because Saiyans are warriors and no one else wants to go, no one will care what will happen to us? Nice."

"My dear... um..." Figaya fumbled through the sheets on his clipboard. "... um..."

"Private Aubergine, you leather-duster," she said, still disdainful. "Yeah, so what about us?"

"My dear... Aubergine," said Figaya, "the matter is not about your 'expendability.' Rather, by voluntarily submitting your service to Emperor Freeza's military, one by default ought to expect to be assigned to life-threatening situations, even if one does not know one hundred percent if the situations are life-threatening. As we assume, uh, with this little situation."

"Great," whispered Aubergine to her twenty-something-year-old comrade, "assigned to a blind fight. Man, what if this is a bust?"

"Well, we can always hunt this guy down, tar and de-scale his worthless hide," replied the comrade, Richyko, and the two snickered.

"Knock off the shenanigans, you two!" barked Licarg. "Don't think that Maize is the only dog I'll beat."

Richyko and Aubergine silenced and slowly cringed in their chairs. They knew that their Captain did not mean to be so harsh, but he been involved in battles that would make any Saiyan crawl. He, one of the bravest Saiyans serving as one of King Vegeta's best, had been scared out of his mind so badly one time that an uneven grey stripe had formed, making an incomplete halo. Indeed he could be angelically calm, but other times he was as stressed as a nervous Devil.

"Well," sighed Figaya, "may I finish this before the planet really is destory?"

Licarg nodded. "Please, Sir."

"All right! Now we know that the colony has not contacted us for two months and one week since the sixth month of its establishment. We lost contact with our last vessel that we sent out there. At first we assumed that weather conditions had deteriorated or perhaps a computer had malfunctioned. However just this morning we received a message from the Nostromo, which we found to be quite disturbing."

Then Figaya started fumbling around with his papers, searching for the recording and the accompanying transcript. Suddenly, without his knowing, the recording device glided over to a teenaged, white-haired boy. The boy snatched it before it fell of the table and held it up.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said quietly, "I think I have what you're looking for."

The iguana man's head shot up. He smiled and said, "Aw, yes, the recording." He marched over to the young Saiyan and snatched the device from his hand. "Thank you, you lovely little monkey."

The young boy cocked his head, confused. His crewmates glanced at him, some eyebrows raised.

"What's his name again?" whispered Aubergine to Richyko.

"I think it's Jicama," he replied. "He's been assigned with us for only three days now."

Aubergine smirked, arms crossed. Jicama, this white-haired boy, seemed so frail and timid for a Saiyan; likely he was a half-breed. She began to wonder why he had been assigned to a team that faced dangers that even the gutsiest of lower class warriors would turn down.

"The message is brief," said Figaya, setting up the device, "but I think this will give you an idea of what you might be dealing with." Then he handed the transcripts to Licarg to read along with as the voice of a distraught soldier played:

'From the Nostromo Colony on Imperial Number 113. Situation: We have been dealing with a sentient force for two months now. At least we think it is sentient. We have no lights… most of the boys think _they_ cut it… have little warmth, and we keep disappearing. Yes, we keep _disappearing_, and none of the comrades are seen again.'

Then faint sobbing played. 'It really feels like my time is nearing now. I've got this one chance to ask for help. We need it… need it real bad now. We don't know what they are, why they're here—_how_ they even got here. But they're like devils…. They are fucking devils! They got no mercy, you can't see 'em with scouters or infrared or your own eyes until they tear out your insides out—'

Suddenly a metallic bang cut off the voice. 'Oh gods, they're here! They're here, gods-damn it! Outside the doors now! I can hear them scratching… screeching… threatening to tear my flesh off my bones... dear gods help me! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna—'

Soon the Riplers and Figaya could also here the screeching. What ever had been on the other side had finally gotten to the soldier, and soon the hiss of the message signing off was all that they heard. Figaya leaned over the table and shut off the device, an eerie silence descending upon the table. The Riplers glanced with wide eyes at each other, then all at their leader. The captain sighed through his nostrils, his face full of the forced calm of superior officers. Finally he looked up at Figaya.

"Obviously," began the iguana man, also calm but somewhat visibily shaken, "the soldiers of the Nostromo Colony did not know what they were facing; nor were they able to fight it off. _We_ still don't know what it is, which happens to make these sounds. It matches nothing in our sound data banks."

"He had to have somehow known," began the shaggy-haired Saiyan who sat beside Licarg. "Somehow."

"And if he had, he was too out of his mind to contribute any more information... Lieutenant Pep. In fact"—Figaya sighed, running a claw over his head—"this is the only byte of information we have on what has happened—_is_ happening."

Pep glanced at Licarg, eyes wide with confusion and alarm. Licarg shook his head in a gesture of sorrow for the fallen soldier.

"Well, ain't that just shitty?" growled Maize, roughly massaging his brow. "So… so what the hell, man? What are we s'possed to chase, eh? These freakin'… things you can't even detect? What, like fucking shadows or demons, man?"

"Corporal!" snapped Licarg to quell the inappropriate tongue.

"We do not know, Lance Corporal," said Figaya. "We know that even you should not underestimate this antagonist. If… what ever it is managed to go unseen this long, even before the colony was established, then the repercussions of our mistake will be costly... literally, in temp and men! And women," he quickly added when Aubergine stared at him.

Then each member of the Riplers glanced at each other again. Richyko, filled with thoughts of a finally meeting a really challenging foe, looked across the table to a black-haired Saiyan.

"So cuz?" He grinned. "Ya ready for a big battle?"

The Saiyan smiled back at him, an equally large grin. "You know it, Richy!"

Richyko and Aubergine laughed.

"Kale, you've always got a thirst for blood!" exclaimed Aubergine.

"Hey, I can't deny my blood!" he replied. "It's like trying live without water or air!"

"Unless you're Ice Box..." said Richyko, and the three broke into a loud fit of laughter.

"Well." Licarg stood up beside Figaya, who glared at the cackling warriors. "I see my crew and I have some training to do."

"Oh, heavens no!" replied Figaya. "You're not training!"

Licarg's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? We've never been in a combat situation like this. We need some practise; I mean, at least a week—"

Figaya snickered. "Oh, but you must go as soon as you accept the mission, and by your words you seem most assuredly willing to go."

Licarg's strong, battle-scarred hand wrapped around the collar of Figaya's robe. He easily lifted the iguana man off his feet. Teeth bared, the elder Saiyan said, "That goes against protocol _and_ the contract that _I_ signed long ago! My crew always gets a minimum of two days orientation training before a mission. _Always_."

"Well," began Figaya nervously, "you must look at the big picture, Captain. This entire thing goes against protocol. You can't expect a little thing like lack of training to spoil things—ack!"

Licarg slammed Figaya against the wall. "I'd rather be executed by my King on this very spot!" growled Licarg. "Because it may seem like a little thing I'm getting upset over, but I had that clause written in my contract for a reason. So don't _fuck_ with my contract or my crew, you un-Saiyan bastard, or I will make you uglier than you already ARE!"

The word 'fuck', uttered from the mouth of their rather proper leader, froze the Riplers in their spots. Licarg never swore often, and if he did, one was certain that he had been thoroughly provoked. And that meant to steer clear of his person or risk death.

"Riplers! Attention!" The soldiers quickly rose to their feet as the captain dropped Figaya unceremoniously. The crew followed him as he marched to the automatic sliding doors. "I am not listening to some green turd of a lizard about a mission like this..."

The stunned Figaya shouted, "You stupid monkey! You don't understand the importance of finding out the whole truth!"

Licarg turned, parting the crew as he sailed back. "Wrong, you little invalid! Dead wrong! I've seen the whole truth play out my whole life, and I know how law and politics work. So don't try to outsmart or smartass me 'cause I'm never in the mood for Grade A bullshit! Why don't you find some other imbecile, some naïve amateur, to carry out your death missions because I'll have nothing to do with it from now on!"

Figaya, as did the Riplers, remained wide-eyed and silent. Then Licarg marched angrily back to the front, and his crew followed his clip, infuriated steps. They knew to stay far behind him and not to speak to him. They knew that very likely the recollections of horrible days long since passed were probably replaying in his mind—all the fellow warriors slaughtered before his eyes, and the conflict that had bleached a grey halo around his well-shaped skull.

During the journey back to their rooms, Richyko managed to summon up the courage to speak with Captain Licarg.

"Um, Sir," he said quietly.

"What is it, Private First Class?" asked the weary Licarg.

"Sir, may I speak with you for a moment, Sir?"

Licarg halted and looked at Richyko with tired eyes. He sighed, expecting the usual modest plea to dive head first into a dangerous mission.

"Fine," he sighed. "Riplers, report to your designated quarters. We will meet in the training arena within the hour, so don't lie about!"

"Yes, Sir!" shouted the crew, and they went their separate ways. Then the captain stepped the last few feet toward his room, typed in the password, and entered. Richyko followed, the door sliding shut behind him. Licarg walked to his desk and plopped onto his chair, sitting with a slight slouch.

"Before you ask, Richyko, you know my answer," he said.

"But Captain, this mission could be the one of a lifetime!" beckoned the young Saiyan.

"Yes, one of… and possibly the last. My answer is still no," replied Licarg. "This mission smells like trouble and could be, especially if we're not allowed enough time to better orientate ourselves to a similar environment."

"Sir, why must we _always_ train before a mission? I mean most of the time, we really don't know what we're going up against. And we usually do so great! How would this mission be any different?"

"Because it smells that way. They know more than they are letting on. Now I've been around longer, and I know the politics of this game, Richyko. I am clairvoyant enough to see when a trick is brewing. And I want nothing to do with it unless King Vegeta himself tells me that we need to do it."

"Ha! That won't be long," said Richyko, a hand on his hip. "That guy's got a temper a mile wide and a mile deep. He'll find out and—"

"I will, in turn, reason with him." Then Licarg sighed. He did not need this inquisition from his own subordinate, not while a headache ravaged his brain. He soon stood up, walked to the door, and pressed the button to open it.

"You are dismissed, Private," he said.

"But Sir—"

"Richyko, I cannot tolerate this defiance!" shouted Licarg. "Not now of all times. Now I need your support on this, so just report to your designated quarters or I will cuff you so hard that your head won't stop spinning. Understand?"

Richyko's face fell. He knew in his instincts what mistake he had made by even thinking he could get through to his superior officer. And so dejectedly he marched out, head high but spirit low.

Licarg shut the door and reclined on his bed. He crossed his arms and rubbed his forehead. The recording kept replaying in all its ghastliness in his mind. He knew that Ice-jin Emperor was covering up much more information, and Licarg intended to get as many details as possible. Then again, Richyko had made a point: when (not if) King Vegeta would be brought into the matter, he would be most displeased with the Captain. And Licarg knew what the volatile King did to treacherous warriors.

Licarg shuddered and closed his eyes. His days as a brash young warrior long passed began to run through his mind. He remembered the times when he had been arrogant and too eager to jump into battle. Such reckless behaviour finally led to the destruction of friends and fellow warriors in one horrifically unforgettable combat.

Suddenly a beeping noise sounded from atop Licarg's desk. He sat up and saw the red light on his television-phone blinking rapidly.

"Not now..." Licarg sat at his desk, reached for the phone, and turned on the screen. He placed the caller on he speaker. "Hello, this is Captain Licarg speaking."

The screen flickered with snow. A voice on the other line told him to wait. After several seconds passed, a face appeared on the screen. He was a young man with wild black hair tied back. He wore a scouter with a blue-green lens, and his armour bore the Royal House's crown symbol. Licarg smirked bitterly and shook his head.

"The King's loyal Corn," said Licarg as he bowed his head. "What news do you harbour?"

The Captain of the Elite Guard wore an unreadable expression. "His Majesty King Vegeta has received word of your refusal."

_Of course; I was expecting, as well as dreading, this._ "I assumed he might," replied Licarg.

"I must say, His Majesty is most displeased that one of his highest ranking warriors would refuse such a mission of importance."

"Well, I apologise, Corn, but that lowlife secretary Figaya was threatening to breach a small but still rather significant portion of my contract."

"Well, I suggest you overlook such minor details."

Licarg bristled. He had generally not cared much for Corn. When ever they met or briefly passed each other, each man let the other go about his way if he were left alone. At the moment, Licarg did not care for tone in the advisor's voice.

"I wish to speak with King Vegeta immediately," said Licarg.

"I'm afraid he's occupied at the moment."

"Listen to me, you little twit," growled the captain. "You either get him on here now or I will come down there _myself_ and show you how much free time I have!"

Corn's black eyes had slightly widened, but that face otherwise remained the same. He turned his head away to the side and leaned off-screen. He whispered to someone beside him.

"You will need to wait for an hour—"

"NO!" Licarg's boisterous shout rattled Corn and sent him back. "I will speak to _my_ King _right_ now or, so help me Corn, I will _finally_ break open your sorry ass and smear your face in your own shit!"

Corn immediately disappeared off screen. People shouted in the background in the native Saiyan tongue, demanding that the King appear immediately. And soon his bearded majesty did appear, weary and unpleasant.

"Captain Licarg," began the burly-voiced King, "I should have known you would do this. To be frank I shouldn't favour you like this."

"My King," began Licarg, "I cannot go through with the mission to the Nostromo Colony. I did not like the way Figaya presented it. And I doubt anyone else would have made it better. But that little green scum-sucker was about to have me violate my contract."

"And from what I understand, you defended yourself too well," said the King. "I was in the midst of speaking with the Emperor about Figaya, albeit I could not hear him because of Figaya's constant shouting. But I assure you, the little green scum-sucker will not longer trouble you…"

Which meant that stupid iguana man had irked Freeza enough to kill him.

"Licarg, if you want some time to train," said King Vegeta, "I've managed to strike a bargain. You have some until the next departure, which is not far from now. So I suggest that you use the time wisely."

Licarg sighed and bowed his head. "I understand, Your Majesty. I will accept the mission to the Nostromo Colony."

King Vegeta growled softly and nodded. No wonder, thought Licarg, the captain saw the dark circles around the King's eyes. King Vegeta could have ripped his ears off, old respected friend or not, but lethargy was holding the homicidal judge at bay. "Now I suggest you rest, old friend. You look very weary."

Licarg smirked. "Don't mind my saying this, Your Majesty, but I advise the same of you." Then he bowed his head a second time. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Stay well."

Finally the screen flashed into snow two seconds later. Licarg turned off his device and slouched in his chair. His temples beat with the stress of confronting his 'old friend' like that.

The only reason why Licarg commanded King Vegeta's respect was because he had served honourably during the last years the man's father's reign. He had eventually become a great general under the current Vegeta's rule. But after a disastrous battle and an unexpected struggle to survive on Planet Sulaco, Licarg had been deemed unfit to return to battle and had temporarily retired, serving with the Royal Guards. Only two years ago he had managed to return to the army, but despite King Vegeta's confidence in him, Licarg had refused to serve anything higher than a captain.

In Licarg's mind, he would never again be worthy of high titles. He did not wish to be.

The elder captain sighed. He decided that it would be proper if to rendezvous late to training. In the meantime, he would rest and contemplate how to approach the mission.

_But this doesn't mean I'm going to like this any better_, thought Licarg to himself, and he rested his heavy bones on the bed.


	2. What a Surprise!

**Chapter 2—What a Surprise!**

The young, white-haired Saiyan boy sat in mid-air, legs folded and arms crossed, while he meditated peacefully in a corner. Jicama had walked directly to the training room after the Riplers' dismissal. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was fifteen minutes before the entire crew needed to be there.

Suddenly the doors slid open, and in strutted Richyko and Kale.

"Well, well!" hailed Kale. "Looks like the amateur warrior got here before us."

"What a surprise," said Richyko with a grunt. "It's usually the young and the new that boot-lick."

Jicama opened his dark violet eyes and looked at the cousins. He lowered his energy and set his feet on the ground.

"Well, shall we commence this little session?" asked Kale as he eyed a punching bag. And with little effort he smacked the bag with his fist, sandy rivers spewing forth.

Jicama cautiously approached the other Saiyans, hands folded behind his back. The young man asked, "Do you think we'll need our scouters?"

Kale snorted. "Why bother?"

"Why you worried about that, kid?" asked Richyko as he inspected the equipment. Then he murmured, "Damn, you'd think they'd make this stuff to last…. Anyway, kid, you heard what the big lizard said. Scouters are no good, 'cause apparently the enemy doesn't show up on them."

Jicama cocked his head downward, hand under his chin. "Yes, that is peculiar."

"I love a challenge!" shouted Kale in a sudden burst of excitement.

The younger warrior merely stared at him, eyes wide. Perhaps he was too out-of-character for his race. Maybe it was because he could not relinquish the mannerisms of his tribe, who behaved strangely for Saiyans. His people had not experienced the same bloodlust as their kin, and as a result they were hunted down by other Saiyans after the war against the Tsufurians. Nevertheless, Jicama wanted to feel a connection with the Riplers, especially since he was likely to be with them for quite a while.

"Why so serious all of a sudden, Hicky?" asked Kale, laying a hearty slap on the boy's back. "You've only been with us for—what, three days?—and already you're acting like the captain, somebody who's seen more than his share of fisticuffs."

The young warrior fidgeted. "It's Jicama," he quietly replied, "and actually, that is why I'm here. I keep getting transferred out of crews because of… well, aggression problems."

"Yeah," a voice suddenly appeared, "lack there of, eh kid?"

All heads turned toward the door. There stood violet-haired Aubergine, a sadistic grin on her tan face.

"Now now, my fine female," began Kale, "we've haven't really seen the boy in action yet—"

Aubergine sneered. "Exactly what I mean," she said as she strutted and joined her crew mates. Then her head whipped towards Jicama, who merely stared back. She smirked one-sidedly and asked, "Hey kid, if you wanna run with this pack, you better not fight like a pussy."

"Pff! Pussy, she says," scoffed Kale, leaning an elbow on her shoulder. "So what, Aubey, does this mean you've been mistaken for a man before? Got the plumbing for that?"

"I don't know," she replied with a devious grin. "All I know is I keep mistaking _you_ for one."

"Oh!" Richyko slapped Aubergine's right hand and squeezed it in a display of victory. "Nice one! This gal'll get ya every time, ain't that right, cuz?"

"Oh, she's a tough cookie," said Kale with a friendly grin, "and a bit of a looker. I guess."

"Watch it or I might just be a man," said Aubergine, punching him playfully in the shoulder. "And what'll we think of you then?"

Kale merely shrugged. "Not really my territory! Not to say that the fruity types really bother me."

"With the exception of Ice Box?" asked Jicama in an attempt to gain his fellow crew members' acceptance.

"Hey hey!" cried Aubergine as she rustled Jicama's pale hair. "This kid _does_ catch on—hell, kid, there's hope for you yet!"

Then the three older Saiyans laughed heartily. And Jicama's smile, though tiny, was filled with mild pride at finally being received. The laughs were soon cut short by the appearance of another older Saiyan.

"All right, you lollygagging miscreants!" cried the Saiyan. "Front and centre!"

The Saiyans assembled themselves in one row and stood still and attentive as their lieutenant, Pep, approached them with a predatory stride. His terra cotta face was moulded into stoicism and intimidation. He circled the group like a vulture and eyed them each as if he were a hawk. Then he stood before them, his back straight and hands behind it.

"All right, you gaggle of glory hounds," said Pep, "I have just received word from Captain Licarg that a little settlement has been reached regarding the Nostromo Colony."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Kale snidely.

"_Yes_, Private First Class," he replied with a corner of his lip curled up. "It has been decided that upon the next available departure, we need to have our butts down at the docks with haste."

The crew scoffed and began to grumble. Not that it should matter, but that didn't give them much time to train; more like an hour of thumb-twiddling. And knowing how Licarg felt about pre-mission orientation (as he called it), the crew certainly would not hear the end of his rumblings.

"Okay, you monkeys, quiet down," said Pep. "This is no time to be bitching. Now I understand what we all heard back in the conference hall. Most of us are accustom to pre-mission orientation now and often benefit from it. But things have become rather serious because the Captain has spoken _directly_ to King Vegeta."

Immediately the Saiyans became silent and tensed in their positions. Kale quickly vocalised the general sentiment: "A-heh! Yeepa…"

Pep shook his head. " 'Yeepa' is right, Private, this does come as quite a shock. But the captain is closely tied to the Royal family, and it's because of the respect that he commands that we're not leaving right this second. Now we have only a half-hour to train and another half to arrive at the docks before departure. All we need is the Lance here, and we'll do some short exercises. We need the whole team here except for Captain Licarg. He'll be a bit delayed."

What another stunning revelation that was. Captain Licarg always oversaw their training sessions. That was how they kept from killing each other, not out of any spite but because of overboard enthusiasm mustered during a bout.

Since he had been there only so briefly, Jicama did not understand. "What's the big deal?" he asked. "I mean, the captain will join us at the docks."

"Certainly," assured Pep.

"Yeah, but training isn't the same without the captain," said Kale. "He's not afeared to rip into your soul—er, give constructive criticism," he added with a smile.

A smile also crept on Richyko's face. "Yeah, dare I say, but he's probably got more battle knowledge than the King himself. Really seasoned guy, knows how to tell a guy how to improve. But I doubt that Captain Licarg's in any deep trouble. Probably just restin' after meeting with the big—"

"Or maybe you might have somethin' to do with 'im not bein' 'ere," echoed Maize's voice from the other side of the training room.

Aubergine rolled her eyes. "What took your sorry monkey ass so long?"

Maize strolled up to them and sneered silently at her. Then Kale questioned him: "What are you implying, you numb wits? Didn't you just here? The captain spoke with the King, he couldn't do that if he was already indisposed."

"I'm not implyin' nothin'," replied Maize with a pouting grin. "All I'ms sayin' is that Richyko 'ere was the last one with the Captain."

"Maize, shut up with the mind fuckery," growled Richyko.

"Yes, Maize," began Pep with a raised eyebrow, "I believe that if you had been here earlier, you would have heard that I've spoken with Licarg."

"Well, you never said that—"

"I _implied_ it," and Pep grinned widely and threateningly. "Otherwise had you not come at all, firstly we would become suspicious of _your_ absence, and secondly you would not know that we are going to Nostromo."

"Ha!" Kale wrapped a brotherly arm around Richyko's neck and squeezed tightly. Then they and Aubergine all flipped up their middle fingers and opened their mouths wide, tongues sticking out.

"Oh, for the gods' sakes," grumbled the elder Saiyan, "you people! All right now! Get to work! We've already dawdled long enough thanks Maize's grade B bull."

"Ha ha!" laughed Aubergine, at once staring at Maize's angry teeth.

"All right, clear off!" order Pep, and the Riplers scattered. Maize claimed all nearby punching bags, all stronger than the one Kale has obliterated. Aubergine spared with Kale. Richyko played around with weights, lifting each up several times, folding them into strange shapes, and then folding them back. Jicama merely meditated in the corner next to him.

Soon enough the older warrior struck up some conversation.

"So about earlier, kid," he began, "you know Aubergine was kidding around. Of course, if you would care to elaborate…"

"Hmm?" Jicama opened his eyes wide. "What's that? Oh. That. Well..." Jicama's face flushed pink. "Twice now I've been threatened with permanent grounding because of my temper. I kept getting annoyed all the time, being teased for being a Tora Saiyan. And then when I—"

"Wait, you're a Tora Saiyan?" Jicama nodded. "Heh! That explains why you look and act so weird! Hey, is everything really all that mystical and tranquil as I keep hearin' about?"

Jicama's hands folded behind his head. "I… guess so. A friend of mine suggested that I go back to my roots. You know, like how I keep meditating. It actually helps me focus and keeps my anger under control. I mean…" His hands and head lowered in shame. "I mean, the only reason why I'm even here is because of the captain."

After eyeing the masterpiece that he had made, Richyko dropped it to the floor with a resounding thud. He glanced at the younger Saiyan. "Really? How's that?"

"The transfer officers recognised that I had… knack for fighting. In fact, it was because I was getting attention exemplary fighting that… well, the teasing got worse. And so did my anger. Just before I learned where I was going, they had given me my last warning. Then someone suggested that I train with the former General, the great Captain Licarg. He's supposed to be able to quell the fiercest of tempers and hone the soldiers of greatest talent."

Then he laughed airily. "I fit both categories, so here I am, training with the great Saiyan Licarg!" Then his happy face fell, his eyes on the ground.

Richyko hummed pensively and crossed his arms. "Really? All that? Hmm!" He smirked to one side. "You should feel pretty privileged. A lot a guys wanna be in this crew or at least train with the captain. Except for the lieutenant, I think we're all like you—we never expected to fight with a man like Licarg. Feh! 'cept the captain's still got a long way to with tamin' Maize's what-have-ya. Anyways!" Richyko began to eye another set of weights.

"Ya got any parents, kiddo? Even for a Saiyan, you seem pretty young to be in a group like this."

Jicama's eyes remained on the floor. "I really don't have parents. The non-Tora Saiyans killed them long ago, and I'm an only child. I don't know of any other relatives. Basically I've been alone and still am."

Richyko set down the weights and frowned. He strode toward the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jicama looked at his face.

"Hey kid, nobody's ever alone in this crazy, mixed up universe. I mean, sure, we all get lonesome, thinkin' all the world is shit for treating us like shit. But then you realise things aren't all that lousy. Like now! I mean, you're with us, kid, although," he added with a grin, "some would beg to differ. And when you lack blood, or maybe blood just can't be trusted, you've got us to treat you like family."

Jicama's wide, violet eyes reflected Richyko's image. He admired the older Saiyan for his optimistic attitude. He made his heart feel light and free. Jicama smiled. "Thank you, Richyko."

"No probs, kid!" And after he rustled his hair, he returned to his work.

Jicama then asked: "What about your family, Richyko?"

"Oh, those schmoes?" Richyko picked up the three-hundred-kilogram weight effortlessly and inspected it.

"Mmm hmm! I already know you and Kale are cousins."

"Yeah, that goofy ball o' fuzz! But he's lovable. As for closer family, I've got a younger sister, Rubega, and an older brother, Bardock. I don't know what happened to the sister. She's vagrant and all that jazz. But Bardock works for one of the lower level destruction crew with four others."

Then Richyko smiled at Jicama. "And you know he's gotta be all jealous, his little bro is higher up on the food chain."

"Huh! Do you have a family of your own? Any kids?"

"Uuuhh, I ain't the hitchin' type," said Richyko, lifting the weight up and down several times with each hand. Then he held it in both hands, inspected it again, twirled it with remarkable speed, and looked at it again. As he began to bend it he said, "But my brother Bardock's got his eye on this one gal. Reow! 'stead of callin' her a monkey, one should call 'er a fox."

Jicama hummed in interest. He watched as Richyko bent the bar into various shapes and placing the circular bars in what seemed like intentional places.

"You seem like an artist at heart," commented the younger Saiyan.

"Yeah, it's good muscle training and it allows me to… express myself. Soft side of the rough stuff, ya know? It reassures the snobby types that we're not all barbaric, meat-grubbing sons-o'-bitches."

Jicama smiled at his friend's exuberance. Just at that moment, Kale stopped in the midst his sparing with Aubergine to speak with the two.

" 'Ey, you lovebirds," he joshed, "what are you talking about?"

"Lovebirds?" repeated Richyko. "You crazy? He doesn't even look old enough! I mean, look at me—I got rickets and dementia and whole host of crap like that," he said, hunching over and walking like an old man with a cane. His companions laughed.

"Oh, come on! Every one loves a May-December," said Kale.

"Love it because it gives 'em something to gossip about," chuckled Aubergine, and then she mentioned, "Well, you know the captain should be around any minute now. That or we'll go down to his room and do to him what we did around his birthday." At which point the three Saiyans burst into boisterous laughter.

"Nudist and everything!" cried Kale heartily, tears at the corners of his eyes as he grabbed his female companion. "Scared the living daylights out of the entire complex! We marched his ass out—too bad we didn't have him stripped down, huh?—embarrassed the hell out of him in front of the superiors."

"Too bad Ice Box wasn't around," chuckled Aubergine, "that would have been a nutty sight!"

"Yeah, for a moment then, I thought the captain would severe mine," chuckled Richyko. "He blew such a gasket! We should do that again some time!"

Jicama smiled and shook his head. Suddenly he noticed Pep marching toward them. The boy hissed, "Hey, the Lieutenant's coming this way!"

"Ah, snap!" Kale and Aubergine bailed out and resumed their fight. Richyko looked for the nearest punching bag and brought about a relentless assault on the defenceless object. Jicama returned to meditating.

Pep stopped, crossed his arms, and smiled. He shook his head and thought to himself what madcapped warriors the Riplers were. Then his attention turned to the lone Maize.

Maize was a rather unstable man, albeit not that unpredictable. And he did not generate a hostile enough environment that would warrant his dismissal. His fighting skills, especially as a berserker, were highly desired and treasured in the Saiyan race. But Pep as well as Captain Licarg scorned Maize's lack of respect toward authority. One day that man would finally meet an opponent he would regret.

_My hope is that it's not on this mission at least,_ thought Pep. _He's a nasty one, Maize, and he deserves a good beating to put him in his place. But I would not wish for more than that._

"Boy, how un-Saiyan of me!" sighed Pep, and his hands dropped to his sides.

Suddenly the training room doors slid open. In stepped Captain Licarg, still weary-eyed but apparently better rested and recovered. The crew immediately assembled front and centre before their august leader. He smiled at them and stood proudly.

"I bet my soul that you already know about the mission?" he said.

"Yes, Sir!" cried the Riplers.

"And that I have spoken with our most merciful King?"

"Yes, Sir!"

_Merciful? _thought Richyko, as did most of the Riplers. _I'll doubt that and bet_ my _soul on it!_

"Very good." Licarg turned to his second-in-command. "We will be departing for Freeza #113 with two other crews, no more questions asked."

"Yes, Sir! We follow you, Sir!"

Licarg's head turned toward them and he smiled. The crew's enthusiasm gladdened and saddened the elder captain. He was glad because they were so young and eager for a challenge, even though this gods-forsaken Empire was capitalising off their blood and toil. He was sad because of the premonition he felt churning in his stomach: that they might return with fewer warriors.

"Good!" exclaimed Licarg. "I believe I interrupted your training session?"

"No, Sir!" replied Kale for his team. "We merely wanted to acknowledge your high-ranking presence, Sir!"

_Yeah, literally rank_, thought Maize bitterly.

The captain smiled and glanced at Pep again. Then he said, "All right then. Let's go ahead to the docks and meet the other crews."

_No sense in training when you're not even allotted much time._

"Yes, Sir!" The Riplers queued up and marched behind their superiors out of the training room. They followed Licarg down the long halls and entered a large area with multiple chutes, towering to the sky. At the bottom of each chute was one open pod, waiting for a warrior to enter and be shot into space.

"The journey ought to be no longer than two weeks," declared Licarg. "We should spend no more than one week there and return home afterwards."

"Yes, Sir!"

Licarg stopped and allowed the crew to pass him and Pep. Pep leaned closely and whispered, "You sounded apprehensive towards the end of that. May I know the trouble?"

When Licarg turned to look at him, Pep saw the sadness in his dark eyes. Licarg replied quietly, "I know—_know_, mind you, not just feel—that not only is it going to be longer that a week, but"—he hesitated momentarily—"I've a feeling that only one person will make it home, if he or she does not get killed with us."

Pep's eyebrow knitted. "Sir?"

Licarg cocked his head and sighed. He continued, "I tell you, Lieutenant, I ought to be like them: eager for battle, for blood, for honour. A man—a woman—is no true Saiyan if they have no desire for adventure, for a challenge. And I enjoy a challenge, but… I still feel fear. I feel… that inkling of troubled preservation, ever since that meeting. Pep, we are Saiyans, but we are… we aren't meant for this!"

"Then why Sir? It's one thing to be bold and quite another to eat more than your stomach will allow," noted Pep. "Please Licarg, if your misgivings are so strong…"

The captain sighed and ran a strong, calloused hand through his spikes. He chuckled, patted Pep on the shoulder and then followed the Riplers to the loading dock where they met the other groups.

"Hey! Avoco!" cheered Kale. "They dragged you here too? Ha!"

"Damn, and you too Endive, Artey," said Aubergine. "Finally a mission that's gonna have more thrill and spices!"

"Hells yeah!" cheered one of the other Saiyans.

As Richyko greeted old friends, Jicama scurried closely beside him and asked, "Um, Richyko? Who are all these people?"

"Hmm?" Richyko shook the hand of one male companion and looked at the younger Saiyan. "Oh! These are our little helpers. This one right 'ere is Soi Boy. Soi Boy, I'd like you to greet the newest inducted member of the elite Riplers, Jicama!"

"Pleasure to meet you, Yiki, m'man," chuckled the Saiyan with the paunch and goatee, extending a friendly hand. Jicama smirked and shook hands—rather, had his hand shaken vigorously to the point it was almost wrenched off his wrist. The older warriors laughed heartily and went about greeting others.

"Captain Licarg," came a feminine voice from behind, "it's been a while."

The captain and the lieutenant turned round and saw a female Saiyan approaching them. The scar blinding her right eye confirmed her identity for them:

"Captain Black-Eye," said Licarg with a smile, bowing his head. "A pleasure. Quite the time since we last encountered."

The woman snickered. "Indeed, captain. And did that abhorrent lizard Figaya drag you into this mess, as well? My crew was quite disappointed to be relayed from their mission to Planet Tenpura. They wished so badly for a _real_ challenge."

"Indeed!" Licarg laughed. Realising that the old sparring partners wanted some time alone, Pep crept off to inspect the pods. Then Licarg cleared his throat and asked, "How's that cousin of yours since I last saw him? What's his name—"

"Paragus," replied Black-Eye. "He's higher ranker than I am now. He recently began serving in the King's Courtly Guard."

"Seriously?" queried Licarg. "Appointed by the King himself?"

Black-Eye laughed sweetly. "Well, rather by that pissant Corn of his, but you must admit that is still pretty high! Oh, but I'm content managing four than being managed by a... oh, I wouldn't say anything rude, but old Vegeta can be"—and she glanced round briefly before whispering in his ear—"a prick."

"Funny, I thought that Corn was also that."

"Oh, you!" The woman hit Licarg affectionately on the shoulder. Then she tapped him on the nose as she replied, "You're just jealous."

"All right! All right!" announced a tall, indigo, skink-headed man as he parted the captains. "Would the Nostromo Teams please come this way? Captains!"

Licarg, Black-Eye and the third captain organised their crew into one mix: three rows of six, they the captains standing in front. The skink man paced before the queues, inspecting them before he continued.

"I am Colonel Saguaro," he began. "I have been charged with overseeing Operation Nostromo; that all does not go extremely awry. You Captains are charged with keeping your crews under control and seeing that my commands are followed _without_ the _slightest_ deviation. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" replied the warriors.

"Heh heh, very good. Now for those of you who need it iterated: the Empire has not received contact from the Nostromo colony for two months and one week. The last crew to check on it has not been heard from for a long amount of time. At first His Glorious Emperor Freeza contemplated destroying the planet, but the Emperor has become aware of the strange creatures heard on the last transmission. Our job is to investigate and potentially hunt down what ever or who ever it is."

Black-Eye raised her hand. Saguaro glanced at his hand-held computer. "Yes, Captain... um, let's see this list—Captain Black-Eye."

"Sir," she began, "do we still have no word of what the creatures are?"

"Heh, rather a suspicion," murmured Saguaro. "Erm! We believe that the colony might have been ravaged by pirates." Immediately the warriors looked at one another. They had all heard that recording, and that did not sound like any pirate attack. "On the eighty percent chance that they are still present, this is why you Saiyans have been called. You are the best warriors by far and are much appreciated for accepting the mission.

"So, if no one has questions—uh, yes, um—"

"Lance Corporal Maize."

_Dear Tabega in the Paradise Beyond_, thought Licarg as he shuddered, tail bristling, _don't be stupid, dammit!_

"What kind of compensation are we receiving if this turns out bust or apocalyptic?"

"I fear I don't understand your question," said Saguaro.

"Sir," began Richyko, "he wants to know if we will be compensated for being plucked from other missions or if this one goes horrible awry."

"Oh!" The colonel rang the tips of his claws. "Well... uh, plenty of talk has gone on that favours some type of... compensation. About five thousand temp for each; of course it's just a guess."

"Five thousand!" The warriors chattered among themselves. Even for a mission this potentially dangerous, that amount seemed high to them, especially on the low wages they already received. The amount seemed quite generous and suspicious to Black-Eye, who glanced at Licarg, his eyes reflecting the same surprise.

"Attention!" shouted Saguaro, and the warriors eventually quieted. The skink man sighed silently and then ordered, "You have been briefed for the last time until we reach Frieza #113. Load up and lift off!"

"Yes, Sir!" And the warriors dispersed to their designated space pods. The three captains talked quietly to each other as they marched to the end of the towers, where their pods awaited them.

"They don't realise how little that is for a mission like this," whispered Black-Eye to her colleagues. "Things just keep getting shittier and shittier, and I don't curse often like this."

"It's all they know, Black-Eye," replied the third captain quietly. "Times being hard as they are now, five thousand temp is a lot—"

"But not enough, Nettles," said Licarg. "Poor as they are, do you think this is worth it?"

Nettles stopped. His colleagues turned round and waited for his response. He licked his lips and then replied, "Dammit, you think I _never_ have misgivings? It's tough times—"

"It's a death mission," breathed Licarg in his face. "Something bad's going down now and _will _go down at the base too. And you feel it too!"

"What?" Black-Eye glanced at her companion, her left eye wide, confounded. "Licarg, what are you talking about?"

Licarg sighed heavily and rounded. He continued to march to his pod and replied, "I dunno know. Just this feeling I get, y'know, whenever I go on missions. I feel... just... I dunno know..."

As Licarg climbed in his space pod, Black-Eye kneeled and looked into his eyes. Carefully, softly, with her trademark soothing, she explained, "Licarg, I know what you've been through my friend. But that battle you fought—those friends... you inevitably lost and were going to lose perhaps elsewhere—you can't change that. You can't let it consume you, Licarg. Angel..." Her slight fingers touched part of his grey hair. "...my Angel... We're gonna be fine. Toss away the worries. Your crew, my crew, Nettle's crew... I myself... we are all here for you."

Licarg smirked uneasily and brought her hand to his cheek. He nodded and watched her saunter to her pod, just as she flashed him one last thumb up for comfort. He nodded again as the door lowered, shut and locked securely. He buckled himself, waiting before the pod was shot into the void and soared to his final destination: Hell, in all its frozen, twisted ugliness.


End file.
